Peek A Boo
by FINAL BOSS BOKUT
Summary: He had all of time and space, so many fantastic places, and that, of course, leaves us with so many tiny moments to explore. / drabble collection
1. FIVE MINUTES

**nanananana  
>I'm wasting precious class time.<br>Bye.  
><strong>

**I do not own Doctor Who, nor any of its characters.**

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><p>Five minutes. He had told her <em>five minutes.<em> But no, little Amelia Pond had stayed outside all night and then some waiting for him, that odd man in the phonebox, all wrapped up in her coat and scarf.

But five minutes turned to thirty, and thirty turned to an hour, and an hour turned to three hours, and before she knew it, twelve years had passed.

And she waited.

She always waited.


	2. The Doctor's Door

**As soon as the Doctor opened up his door in this episode, I knew it was himself.  
>My god, his self-loathing is unbearable. <strong>

**I do not own Doctor Who, nor any of its characters.**

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><p>It was not as rare of an occurance as one might think, the Doctor breaking his own rules; rules that were so meticulously laid out and organized, but ignored most of the time for all their effort.<p>

So it shouldn't have been all that surprising when he pushed open a door, ironically marked with the number eleven. It sent a faint tingle of amusement through him, and a smile lifted his lips for the slightest fraction of a second, and then he pushed open the door.

The room itself was stark white, lighted in harsh luminescence with no furniture or color. Just a white, empty room, save for two men; one at the door, and one in the middle.

The Doctor stared into hazel eyes, ones that matched his completely, and stared as they morphed to dark chocolate brown, then to icy blue, and then even farther back, faster and faster and faster, the colors all blurring together as the man in the center of the room morphed through all of his past lives in reverse until he was staring at himself, his first self.

"Of course," he said to himself, to the copy, softly, sadly, as he closed the door. "Who else could it be but you?"


	3. No More Waiting

**/casually writes more  
>I ship DoctorAmy fight me **

**I do not own Doctor Who, nor any of its characters.**

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><p>Amy stood out int he middle of the street as she had done for quite a few hours, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared blankly at the place where the TARDIS had last been, its wheezes still echoing in her mind. The sun was setting, casting a ruddy look over everything, and Rory had long since retreated inside when the air started to cool.<p>

It was near impossible to grasp, now that her hysteria had worn off; the Doctor wasn't coming back for her, and the thought left her feeling empty and cold. It was a thought that had started gnawing at her when he told her not to place her faith in him, and only expanded and broke through when he left.

Only when then sky was pitch dark and she could no longer feel her nose and fingers did Amy head inside, though not with out a final glance back, as if he might return, apologize in that absurdly adorable way of his, and whisk her away to another fantastic adventure and pick up right where they left off.

He had already moved on; she might as well, also. She wasn't going to wait for him anymore.


	4. Honor Bound

**omg Closing Time killed me  
>i always associate Cybermen with Rose, so I kept having an absurd hope that she'd pop out somewhere <strong>

**I do not own Doctor Who, nor any of its characters.**

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><p>Death terrified the Doctor.<p>

It really shouldn't have, though. He'd seen enough of it to become nearly immune. However, he didn't fear other's deaths; no, those just made him angry, or sad, or disappointed, or sometimes he just didn't feel anything at all. No, it was his own death that he feared the most.

Which, in retrospect, really shouldn't have been feared, either. Every time he regenerated, that was death, in a sense. One body dying and transforming into another. And he was afraid of regenerating, to a point- just not as much as he was afraid of _actually dying._

It was even harder, knowing that when he died, the last of a great and ancient society died with him. There was no one else to carry on the legacy of the Time Lords. And he was at fault for that, too.

He even had half a mind to hop in the TARDIS and never go back, never see that cursed beach again. But every time, every time a little voice would whisper in the back of his mind. _Coward, _is said, hissing the word. _Coward, coward, coward. You're nothing more than that, afraid to go and face your death. No honor, no bravery. Coward._


End file.
